


breakfast without a bed

by sirnando



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 14:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11900133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirnando/pseuds/sirnando
Summary: Sergio and Marco buy a house they do not need, but want.





	breakfast without a bed

**Author's Note:**

> live love sarco and also angie for inspirations on portions of this

They decided to buy a house together. A well sized condo, if you were Marco. Very well sized. They bought it because Sergio was too lazy to make an extra copy of his house key. Too tired to keep reopening and closing the door. Not stupid enough to keep it open all the time. And Marco lived with his family.

~

Marco had stepped back into teal paint on the first day while trying to admire his work from a further distance. And then in his panic, stepped in with the other. They hadn’t laid out any newspapers or old towels so the new floor was now patterned with the frantic pitter patters of Marco’s feet. Sergio laughing on the other side.

He did help clean Marco’s soles, and then the floor, but along the way his own heel was soiled a bit with the blue. And that’s how they spent the whole day scrubbing frustratedly at Marco’s feet, at the invisible paint, and fresh prints. Until Marco thought to ask “Wait, what about you?”

~

Marco had told him to purchase one item: some flowers for the windowsill. The smell of the paint was becoming nauseating but Sergio had insisted they sleep on a stained sheet on the hardwood floor anyway. There was most definitely a health risk attached to snorting paint fumes each night, but Marco liked the adventure of it. Hopefully the flowers would suck some of the toxicity out of the air.

And Sergio did buy flowers, theoretically. Succulents in tiny dishes. Green. Bluish. Purple. Plastic. The dirt was spray painted styrofoam and you could cut yourself on the edge of the petal if you ran your finger over it too quickly, Marco learned. 

He bought real flowers at a vendor right down the street. The succulents stayed. So did the fumes.

~

Marco always took the right side of the bed, in this case bed sheet, so his right leg could hang off the side. He swore to Sergio that he never tossed or turned during the night because he always awoke in the same position. And yes, that was true, but not without taking some pit stops along the way. Left heel driving itself into Sergio’s crotch. Left arm swinging across his face, hitting the bridge of Sergio’s nose.

Marco would turn completely onto his left side, arms, legs and all, and teetered back and forth. Sergio knew because he was the one catching Marco as he tottered over, stopping him from suffocating, nose buried in the pillows.

Marco was always unconvinced. In denial. Until one night Sergio forgot to catch him and Marco’s nose rammed into the wood. Snapping awake, looking around the room with a sour look on his face, before mumbling groggily that, fine, Sergio had been right. And rolling back to his starting position.

~

It was absolutely necessary that Sergio play music at all times. Primarily the reason why their sound system was installed first. His hips swayed back and forth out of rhythm, words spilled out into the air in offkey notes that Marco winced at.

And Marco was not a dancer. At the moment he was an interior decorator with expensive merchandise in his hands. But Sergio swayed in front of him, ground his pelvis against maroc’s, his crooning growing louder, eyes closed with the passion. His hands replaced the items - one pushing Marco into his chest at the small of his back, the other stretching their arms out to the side.

“Get on my feet,” and Marco obeyed, delicately stepping on. That was the extent of his dancing. Head on Sergio’s shoulder, ear growing sore from Sergio’s singing and being guided in slow circles around the living room. Sergio never letting go.

~

Freshly showered Marco, freshly moisturized and paired with downy, rose scented hair, laid down naked on the couch, belly first. His thighs hit the back of Sergio’s and Sergio’s hand instinctively went down to Marco’s ass. Fingers kneading the soft flesh of his cheeks gently.

They smelled the bacon burning, but the fire detectors hadn’t been installed yet. No need to be alarmed. Neither of them were willing to break contact with each other either.

“We should probably turn the stove off,” Marco muttered, eyes still glued to the TV show on the screen. “Probably,” but Sergio’s fingers didn’t stop their palming. Only until the smoke became visible in front of their eyes did Sergio finally, reluctantly, unglue himself.

~

Sergio was always designated masseuse. Had Marco lay down shirtless under his feet while he played FIFA. Only listening to Marco’s muffled “Up, up, up - no too far. Down a little.” He didn’t even realize Marco was flipping over onto his back until his feet were being tickled and the opposing team had the prime opportunity to score on him.

He would be “understandably” mad. Grumbling something under his breath and ignoring Marco until he was tickled again. Except this time it was Marco’s kisses and teasing tongue on his calf, inching up along his thighs and shoving the pesky fabric of his shorts aside, so Marco could suckle at the milky skin inside of them. Smirking up at the tent Sergio was involuntarily raising.

~

They shaved each other because shaving yourself was too much of a chore. Sergio applied the cream in a perfect outline of Marco’s scruff. Sharp lines, brushing away the excess with a moistened finger. Marco was sporadic, patted all over Sergio’s face with two open palms, squeezed mounds of too much cream onto them. 

They used to try and shave simultaneously, but the tangle of arms fighting over one another caused Sergio to end up with a hole in the hairs of his cheek and part of his sideburn missing. Marco’s sharp lines were just, angled.

Marco was always first, it took him substantially longer. Sergio always had to apply cream to the little triangle at the top of Marco’s chin, where he had been pulling his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration.

~

Sergio insisted that they start making more meals at home. They ate, relatively healthy, Marco more so than Sergio. Much more so than Sergio, quite honestly, because it was Marco snatching popcorn kernels from out between Sergio’s greedy fingers. Justifiable that his mouth made a tiny surprised ‘o’ when Sergio recommended they move away from freezer burned fish sticks served on plates with excess crust on them, to freshly made meals at their tiny round table. A table that truly was, too tiny to fit more than one person’s plate, but it had been Sergio doing the shopping that day too.

But their fridge was unplugged. Unrunning. The only thing in it was actually an old pudding cup Sergio had moved over from the refrigerator in his original home. “Fine then,” Marco decided, they would just take the produce from Sergio’s and stock up here. No need to spend more money, but a proper possibility to make homemade meals. 

No, Sergio said. That would waste too much time. But he did see a pretty tasty looking, totally unauthentic Chinese place just a few blocks down -

~

Sergio ate him out against a freshly painted purple wall. Marco’s hands stained and wet afterwards. The wall would have to be repainted, but Marco’s hands were cleaned off in the space above their bedroom door. Metaphorical cross in the place where people usually hung them.

~

Their water heater wasn’t installed yet, so they were forced to boil water for the bath. Marco wasn’t watching Sergio the first time and scolded himself for it when he heard Sergio “What the fuck”-ing from the bathroom. He kissed the scalded toes while they waited for the appropriate temperature to enter, Sergio hissing above him.

Marco always lowered himself in between Sergio’s spread legs, head resting on Sergio’s chest. Their toes peeked out from above the water, dancing between one another. Rows of bubbles sticking themselves along their skin, the vibrations of Sergio murmuring along to the lyrics lulling Marco to sleep. They had invested in a remote control for their iPOD dock after Sergio’s last one had been knocked down into the tub.

Marco had submerged himself into the water once tried giving Sergio a surprise blowjob. But the water flowed down into his throat, eyes burning, and nose hitting places that were not Sergio’s dick. “I appreciate the thought, baby,” Sergio cooed while rubbing circles into Marco’s panicked muscles, littering the places where he’d finished with kisses. Waited until Marco properly coughed everything up before continuing.

~

They had a pool in the backyard of their well sized condo. A pool Marco insisted they skinny dip in. Even after Sergio reminded him that they skinny dipped every night in the tub.

It wasn’t the same. Didn’t line Marco with the same goosebumps of being outside naked, in broad daylight, the danger of the being discovered a siren constantly blaring. So they skinny dipped. Marco’s fingers intertwined with Sergio’s as they jumped in, legs curled up.

Marco was already waiting for Sergio when he broke the surface, droplets shining in his eyelashes and dripping off the tip of his nose. A smile plastered permanently to his lips, even after Sergio tenderly pecked them a few times in succession.

Sergio was the one with his back leaned against the edging, Marco straddling his waist, toying playfully with with Sergio’s nipples and giggling when Sergio’s exaggerated “Ow, you’re hurting me.” response came. Followed by punishment kisses all over his cheeks, the shell of his ear.

Marco would wrap both hands around Sergio’s neck, thumbs rubbing back and forth under Sergio’s jaw line. His forehead pressed into Sergio’s expectant lips. He hummed in satisfaction and reminded Sergio about how much he loved him until the pads of their fingers turned into raisins and they were shivering against the wind.

~

There were of course cases where Marco did not follow his normal sleeping routine, but instead lay on his right side and waited for Sergio to slide against him. Sergio’s ankles tangled with Marco’s, left thumb brushing the scruff on Marco’s and cheek and nose wedged in the space where Marco’s neck and shoulder met.

And sometimes Marco had to tell Sergio to “Stop getting hard at this inappropriate time” because he could feel it against his ass. Sergio forced to mumble ‘Sorry, love, sorry,” and wait until morning to properly get rid of it while Marco watched him with tired eyes and hickeys on his collarbone.


End file.
